The Hard Path
I haven't written a drabble in 20 years and I had a daddy!charming situation during a free period at school. Enjoy!
x
"Do you want to be alone?"
The words coming from behind him weren't razor sharp and hurt like the ones that had been flying out of his wife's mouth lately (without a family friendly filter, one might add). They were softer, more concerned, like she had been building up the courage to ask him. He shook his head and tried not to think about how much she looked like her mother when she had that look in her eyes.
"If I'm going to be spending eternity alone, I might as well accept some company."
He could nearly feel her draw a sharp breath and it hurt him worse than the poison coursing through his veins the day before. He waited to hear her footsteps fade away as they often did to avoid emotional conflict, but they didn't. In fact, the sound of twigs and leaves crunching slowly grew louder and to his surprise, she actually sat down beside him on the log.
Back home it was normally an act of congress to have her sit down and talk about her feelings. Neverland was different. A week had not even passed and the island had turned his daughter from a heavily guarded stone tower to an emotional timebomb setting off at the tiniest thing and he didn't know how to handle it. All he wanted was for her to be comfortable enough to open up to him, and here she was; fidgiting and shivering beside him, waiting for the signal to let her know it was okay to talk. Unfortunately, he didn't know the signal yet. They both remained still and silent under the moon's dim light.
He wasn't good at this. He never had been. When it came to this sort of thing he always meant well. He wanted her to talk to him like she did her mother more than anything. But when opportunities came, the words didn't follow. So he took the easy path - leaving the heart to hearts to Snow.
The easy path.
The very same path a cursed David Nolan was accustom to not long ago. He claimed it would be easier to spare the feelings of everyone, but it left him with the opposite- hurting the woman he loved most.
The very same path his wife had taken only a short while ago. She claimed it would be easier to cut off the problem altogether, but it left her with a worse fate - the stabbing pain of guilt that nearly drove her to end her own life and a darkening heart in her chest.
The very same path he had taken just this week. He claimed that keeping his life threatening secret would distract his family from saving his grandson when perhaps they could have found a cure without a price, and it left him with the one thing he fought for so long to not happen - being separated from his family forever.
And then it hit him. Not only was he about to lose his family, but his family was going to lose him too.
His wife would be left without a husband to love her endlessly. His grandson would be left without a grandfather to practice sword fighting and tuck him in at night. His daughter would lose the father that she finally found after a lifetime of searching.
His daughter. His baby. His Emma.
His Emma that was such a perfect blend of Snow and himself. Who had so many quirks and qualities similar to their own, like the way her forehead crinkled when she thought hard, or how her head titled slightly like her mother when she was really listening. His Emma that he barely knew and she barely knew him. His Emma that he loved so much, despire her constant giving of the cold shoulder. His Emma that was soon going to be whisked away from him again, but this time - for good.
To hell with the easy path.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She gave him a puzzled glance. "For what?"
"I'm the one who put you in the wardrobe. I'm the one who abandoned you. I'm the one who sent you to a bad life. So, I'm sorry."
She fell silent. He hung his head. Why wasn't he good at this? It was only talking. He balled his fist into the other hand and pushed, hearing the satisfying crack of his knuckles popping; the age old habit his dear mother scolded him for his entire childhood. This little quirk was possibly the only reason he ever disobeyed her. It was a form of stress relief for the shepherd boy. He never understood what was so bad about it.
And then he heard it. A faint, quieter cracking sound than his before but in the same rhythm. He peered over to see her balled fist pushing against her palm, shoulders relaxing with every pop.
"You really shouldn't do that, Emma," he informed her.
She shrugged and popped the last one. "Can't help it. Clears my head." Her eyes moved from her fingers to his, which he was bending and moving about as if from relief. She raised an eyebrow. "And you have no room to talk."
He smirked. "How long have you done them?"
She sighed. "At least twenty years. No, wait...eighteen. Because I had just started living with a new foster mom right after I turned ten. She told me that she didn't like loud music, pets, or the sound of knuckles popping in the same breath that she said her name." She shrugged, "I didn't like her attitude, so I started that night."
"And you haven't stopped since," he chuckled, imaginge a tiny, blonde little girl with the same determination in her eyes, staring the woman down while cracking her tiny knuckles as aggessively as possible.
She nodded, "That was also the same house I learned to appreciate the full volume option on a stereo and found a new love of taking in strays."
They both laughed this time. He realized how long it had been since he heard her contageous laughter, or even her smile for that matter.
"My mother used to always be on my case about it. She even used to tell me that if I didn't stop, my fingers would fall off."
"And you didn't believe her?"
"Oh no, I did." He grinned at her confusion, "I popped them even more after that. Something about walking around a farm without fingers apparently sounded really cool to me."
She was laughing really hard now. "My foster mom told me that if I didn't stop, she'd chop off my fingers."
"Brutal," he chortled.
"Yeah, until later on I learned that she had once been charged for manslaughter." She stared him down as his eyes grew to the size of tractor tires. "Gotcha!"
A stronger round of laughter escaped her mouth while he caught his breath.
"Oh you think that's funny?"
"Yeah, actually I do." She didn't even notice him scooting closer.
"You know, I'm really glad that my fingers didn't fall of when I was a kid. I wouldn't be able to do this!"
His hands flying in her direction caught her once hundred percent off guard. Her giggling instantly turned into screams as he tickled her sides with all his might. She fought, not hard enough to hurt him, even though she probably could if she really wanted to.
"David! Dav- I swear to god- you- stop! Stop I- DaVID-" she wailed between cackles, trying, and failing, to wiggle out of his grasp. Her laughing was quickly joined by his own. The sound echoed off the walls from the surrounding caves, traveled through the trees, and filled the evening air with something Neverland had been lacking for centuries: pure joy.
The sound also reached Snow, who was curled up in the makeshift tent by herself; too angry and sad to even think about talking to her husband. That is, until the laughter surrounded her. It was such a rare occasion when Emma lowered her walls enough to let loose that she wouldn't have recognized it if it wasn't for David's unmistakable roar that harmonized with it. She slowly rose to her feet.
By the time she discovered their location her family was trying their best to carry on a conversation, but failed from the giggles overpowering their systems, the soreness in their cheeks, and the tears burning in their eyes. Emma tried to manage a word out, but the lack of inhaling made her give off an abrut, forced breath, causing her to snort. Her hands flew to her mouth but it didn't matter. They were both doubled over, laughing so hard that there wasn't even a sound anymore. Just a pair of clowns holding their middles and nodding, even clapping when they found the energy, winding up looking more like red faced seals than two adults.
"Okay, truce! Truce!" Emma called, fanning herself as she regained her balance. Snow ducked behind a lower branch of the tree she was hiding in, not wanting to interrupt the moment. She marveled at just how much they looked alike. Even their positions on the shared log mirrored each other's.
He sighed, wiping his eyes from the tears. "This will be a great story to tell your mother." His tone quickly grew sad, "You know, if she ever forgives me."
She frowned at that. She did plan on forgiving him. She would have to eventually. He only did what he had been doing his whole life: putting the ones he cared about first."
Her thoughts faded when Emma spoke up. "She will. I mean, you did what you had to do." Her tiny grin melted back to its usual shape. "You really can't come back with us, can you?"
He met her eyes for only a second before shaking his head. "I'm afraid not." Her face fell and his heart broke. "But you know what? I would gladly stay here if it meant that Henry could go home with you."
"But that means you'll be sepatated from Mary Margaret for...well...forever..."
"That is true. And even though I love her with all of my heart, and I always will," his gaze fell back on her and he smiled, "that's what parents do. They put their children first."
And that's all it takes for her mighty shield to crumble. She threw her arms around him, taking them all by surprise.
"Thank you," she whispered, not even trying to disguise the fact that she was crying.
He did it. He finally did it. He found his way up the guarded tower of his baby girl's wall. It took him a lifetime, but he did it.
He wrapped a strong arm around the grown up child clinging to him and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, whispering something that Snow couldn't hear. Tears welling up in her eyes, she walked back into the jungle. As much as she wanted to join them, she didn't. This was their time and they needed it now more than ever.
Because if all was going according to plan, they would be finding Henry very soon. And this moment could be the last moment Emma ever spent with her father for the rest of her life.